Empty House

As I run through the house of pain,
I desperately search in vain
For an exit to the outside
Where I don't have to hide.

Hey, wait a minute, what's that there?
Maybe a door leading out of here,
Out of all these bland confining walls.
It's just an empty room, that's all.

It's just a messed up reality,
There's not a whole lot to see.
Where's the door to the unreal
Where everything is ideal?

Now my feet pound on the floor
As I search for another door,
But all I find is a man in a trashcan.

He will be overcome with greed
Unless to my words he will heed,
But he is another one so gullible.
Man, what you need isn't tangible.

All that's left is a single bed
Labeled "Respite for the Dead"
But someone is already sleeping in it,
No problem, they'll be done in a minute.